The Shape of Your Eyes

Spring time has finally arrived. In the two leggers world it is a time of life, happiness, and thankfulness for yet another survived winter. Out move the clouds and in move the rays of sunshine and hope.
“Much too romantic.” I roll my eyes thinking to myself as I trudge along the market on my temporary pair of human legs.
“Rice patties! Get them fresh while they’re hot!”
“ Pickles! Come quick before they’re gone!”
I hear shouts from every which direction as I try hard to avoid the many beggars, street urchins, and the uncountable amount of animal droppings. The scene before my eyes is far from the one portrayed in one of the many two leggers’ encyclopedias that I have come to own.
I slowly work my way towards the one stall that will change the course of my life.
“Yes, there it is! Only a few yards away, and in plain sight. Today will finally be the day, no more strange mishaps or magical disappearances that can get in my way. If the stall were to suddenly disappear there’s no possible way it could go unnoticed. I mentally scold myself for all the times some little mishap came between me and that darn stall. Curse it. I desperately need the information that stall holds. If I can’t get my hands on that stall master I truly don’t know what I will do. No, no need for thoughts like that, today will be the day I finally reach that stall, if it’s the last thing I do!” I resolve to myself. Letting my sheer will power carry me to the stall I begin the walk that’s seems to drain all my energy out of me.
Only two yards away, and I am closing in fast. A young street urchin silently grabs the hem of my skirt, and asks me for a piece of gold. I barely notice the poor thing for I am far to busy putting all my strength into driving me the last few yards. I am already planning what to ask from the stall master, when the sharp tug on my skirt scares me completely out of my wits. I jump what seems like a foot in the air, both my concentration and walking abilities are shattered. My weak legs bend and cause me to collapse onto the hard, unforgiving ground.
I find myself cursing at both my legs and the poor boy. I lift my head up just in time to see the poor boy turning the corner as fast as his little legs can carry him. Looking down I notice my legs slowly starting to mold together at the thighs and feel slits of skin breaking to form gill like openings on the sides just below my breast band. I struggle hard to catch my breath, but hear my voice come out in short rasps. Realizing I shouldn’t of have let my anger get the best of me, I curse and scream with the little breath I have hoping to catch someone’s attention.
Scanning the market for help, I spot a man. Standing about three feet in front of me, his arms crossed over his chest, looking down on me, a knowing grin on his face. The kind of grin, that makes you sure that the wearer can’t possibly be up to any good. Yet, he is the only one that seems to pay attention to the thrashing girl on the floor, the only hope I have. In one stride he is above me, his tall body casting a long shadow over me, the cunning smile not complelty off his lips.
I look up, and silently beg for mercy, my eyes pleading for help. I reach out a feeble hand, hoping he will grab it and help me in anyway. His hand reaches out as if he means to help me but suddenlt stops in mudair, as if he just remembered that he had some more important business to attend to, than attending the cursing girl wailing on the floor. The next few seconds feel like eternity, as I watch him bring his hand to his side, turn around, and without a word, head back into the horizon, leaving me to sob silently as I can do nothing but wait for yet another kindred spirit.